By firelight
by voiceofdisbelief
Summary: Wrote this while trying to survive without new Merlin. Just a short fic, set sometime in season 1. Gwen/Arthur - When Arthur decrees a few hours R&R for Gwen, she slips into an erotic dream by the warmth of the hearth.


Gwen closed her mistress' door softly. Morgana's dreams this night had been particularly disturbing and Gwen's embrace had just soothed her to sleep minutes before. With two hours till dawn and no chance of recovering any of her own night's sleep, Gwen had decided to take some mending to one of the parlours, where the fire would still be lit.

Her arms filled with a cloak and two shifts, Gwen made her way around a corner and bumped into a solid figure coming from the opposite direction. 'Oh,' Gwen gasped as the bundle was knocked to the ground.

'I'm sorry,' the figure bent down to retrieve the clothes, 'Guinevere.'

Gwen found herself looking into the dark blue eyes of her prince. Not _her _prince, obviously, the Crown Prince of Camelot. Arthur Pendragon.

'You're up late, Sire, is there anything I can get you?'

Arthur's mouth quirked up at one end and he raised an eyebrow, 'I'm sure there's something.'

Gwen missed a beat but then looked down at the ground to hide her smile, 'Well, Sire, if that's all, I had better get to this mending.'

'Morgana keeping you up again with her nightmares is she?' Arthur's voice held a note of disdain.

'The Lady Morgana cannot help the terror that keeps her up at night. I can always catch up with a good night's rest, I can't imagine what she must endure.' Gwen spoke forcefully, but flushed at the censure in her voice.

'As always, you are gracious…and right, Guinevere.'

'I'm sorry milord, I didn't mean to sound so reprimanding.'

Arthur smiled, 'It suits you, oddly enough,' he held up the bundle of clothing, 'I think this can wait. You have at the very least earned a goblet of wine and a rest by the fire.'

Gwen shook her head ruefully, what would the Prince of Camelot know about how servants spent their hours? 'Thank you, Sire, but I should finish my mending and prepare for my morning duties. And as for a glass of wine,' Gwen couldn't help herself, 'it can't be later than four in the morning! Hardly the happiest of happy hours.'

Arthur tipped his head back and laughed, and despite herself, Gwen felt the slightest rush between her legs at the sight of his unbridled amusement. She wanted to make him laugh more often, make him smile, make him moan. Gwen gave herself a mental slap and noticed that Arthur's smiling eyes were staring straight into hers.

"I'm your Prince, Guinevere, which grants me the rights and responsibilities of a kingdom, including the right to tell you what to do and have you obey me."

"And you would never abuse your privilege would you, Sire?" Gwen's tone was light, but held a note of challenge.

Arthur cocked an eyebrow, "You know what I mean, Guinevere. And if you want to berate me further tonight, you're going to have to do it over wine."

Gwen bit her lip and hesitated. Her natural stubbornness gave way at the prospect of spending a quiet moment with Arthur in the dead of the night. Not as Prince and servant, but as man and woman. Something akin to equals. She could dream. "Alright, milord. Lead the way."

Arthur stared at Gwen, running one finger around the rim of his goblet. They were both seated in the parlour and, with the warmth from the fire and a little encouragement from the wine, Gwen was asleep. The firelight warmed her skin, she was softness and gold. The light glinted on her tumbled curls and her full mouth was plump and relaxed. Arthur wanted nothing more than to carry her to his bed, to lay her down and let her sleep the morning away. Then, when she was rested, strip that lavender dress off her and kiss his way up and down her body. Arthur had little experience with women's bodies. His life had always revolved around battles and learning the ways of a king. His brief tumbles with ladies in waiting and serving girls had always occurred outside of Camelot, as if they would somehow taint his chivalry otherwise. Arthur drew his brows together in regret as he admitted to himself that he had hardly been chivalrous in his actions with those women and perhaps that was why he could count his sexual experiences on one hand. But with Gwen it was different. He longed to have her, that was true, but he also longed to have her by his side, to be informed by her wisdom and comforted by her love and counsel. He marveled at when he realized how little he had noticed her before, and now, how strongly he felt about her.

Gwen was dreaming. Arthur was standing before her, bare-chested and breathing heavily. He was trying to tell her something but it was as though they were separated by a pane of glass. She could see him, but not hear him. She tried desperately to reach out to him but was stifled. All of a sudden, in that way of dreams, she could feel him. Her outstretched hand touched warm, firm flesh and then they were pressed against one another. His heat almost consumed her and she writhed against him as he pinned her wrists up above her head, arching her back so that her breasts were crushed to his chest. Arthur smiled at her, his gaze warm and possessive until he dropped his mouth to the side of her neck, suckling at the soft, sensitive skin. Gwen was lost to pleasure. She gripped Arthur's nape, ran her fingers through his hair and tried to drag his lips across to hers… "Arthur," she whispered.

Arthur raised his head at the sound of Gwen's voice, only to realize she hadn't addressed him and was still asleep. He wondered if he had imagined her saying his name, but then…

"Arthur!" Gwen was moaning his name louder now, "Oh god, Arthur." She was breathless, caught up in the feel of his lips on her skin, desperate to meet him flesh to flesh. Even her dream-self was a little taken aback by her audacity and flaring desire but she didn't care. Didn't care if they were seen, caught, condemned. Gwen wanted Arthur, she burned for him.

Arthur sat up now. He had heard Gwen saying his name over again, in that wanton, breathless tone. He was torn between waking her and letting her sleep so that he could live in her dream just a little longer. He was hard as stone and desperate to hold Gwen, kiss her and fuck her senseless. To lose himself in her the way he wanted. In the way, he suspected, she wanted him to.

Gwen had pushed Arthur up against a wall and was laving his nipples with her tongue. His head was lolling back in ecstasy and Gwen pulled it forward to take his mouth again. He was salty and fresh and on her tongue, she tasted everything she loved about him, his strength, his wit, the green of his youth but also his potential to be a great man and king. Gwen had a moment of lucid pause at this startling and ridiculous dream-thought, but it soon passed, and she gave herself up to enjoying every inch of Arthur.

A log in the fire cracked, the sound just loud enough to wake Gwen from her slumber and pull her out of her dream.

Gwen kept her eyes closed for just a moment. She knew, before she opened them, that she would see Arthur sitting there. That she would have to go back to the real world where her dream could never be.

She opened her eyes. The chair across from her was empty.

Arthur rested his forehead against the cool stone wall of his bedroom. He gripped the bedsheet into which he had just spent himself and forced his breathing into a regular rhythm.


End file.
